The 35th Hunger Games -- SYOT (WRITER'S GAMES) {Semi-Closed}

Reaping Day -- District Three Female

Beatrice Anthony, District Three Female! Enjoy, Jeannie and I will be posting a chapter later on with the score.

The thicket of wood towering before me provided an excellent cover, yet I knew it was never enough. The maple felt as though it was protecting me from the fatal tumble down where civilisation lay, providing security to the young girl it was bearing.
The bark was scattered as the masterpiece it conceived, resembling a structure not yet known to mankind, engraved in secrets that were never found, despite the attention one could give. I felt as though I, alone, had the power to turn the sketch into reality.
Leaves rustle as my left hand comes across it, yet I let no dismay approach. This was not enough for a guess of truancy, yet I had to know of the dangers of carelessness. The offence of trespassing in the meadow was punishable by death, this seeming more ignorant by the second.
Yet I know I have to see this view once again if fate calls my name tonight.
The factories of District Three look minuscule in the distance, as though they were made of gentle porcelain, instead of the bumbling towers filled or swarms of ash. The past appears to weigh nothing, and I feel as though I was a bird about to take flight; I felt indestructible.
Today, the winds seemed to blow in reverse, sliding me towards the buildings in the city, as though urging me onward. The wind blew my cocoa strands of hair to the right, giving a sense of freedom as though I had lost it.
It was not until I heard the metal boots against the wood when I understood the warning cry of the branches, the seeming threat the birds had come by.
'I can see you.' The voice is flat, empty, yet bursting full of unsung melodies. A young woman is clutching the tree beneath the ground, my lifeline from certain death. 'It seems you are under the impression I am an idiot. I assure you that years of...'

Her voice trails off, uncertain, yet I have lost my voice, causing my inability to press the issue. I felt doubtful that this girl was a fool, so I decide to call back. I knew that possibly the judge may show a small token of mercy for the act of bravery, and staying is no longer worthwhile. Whatever qualities this land owned have been robbed from me, when it is no longer a secret.

'Let go of the tree!' I call, attempting bravery, the best I could gather, at the Peacekeeper beneath. Obediently, her hands fall against the white metal suit, as I brace myself for the astounding pain as I hit the floor.
I felt the same pain every year, yet I still came. Ever since I was twelve, I believed this worthwhile, and I will never let this belief go, when the fates are so cruel. It was never as though humanity forced a great loss onto it; Not as though sending innocent children to fight will satisfy the cry for revenge.
Her eyes are a deep shade of black, purer than anything I could imagine. The words, as soon as she speaks, resemble the same qualities. 'Come here. I know District Three with my eyes closed.'
I follow the only guide in these woods onto a cinnamon patch in the garden, a smile playing on the lips. She is undoubtedly the most mysterious woman I have known to exist, and I am not eager to leave her soon. Yet I notice, as she shoves through the thorns, that she has the instinct of a soldier, that every noise is a sign to fear.
To kill, and to hunt.
'Who are you?' The words explode before I could defuse them, yet I know that they may bring a jab with her rifle. Yet she smiles as though I had brought a light to those sorrowful eyes, as though I had diluted some lethal substance inside them. Seemingly not released, yet diluted of the venom that consumed them.

'The Peacekeepers are a faceless mob, yet one I do not wish to be part of.' I recognised her; Peacekeeper duties could be awarded as punishment for rebellion or theft. This may have been my fate, if not for her, and I would forever admire her unbroken spirit, despite taking part in the most hated organisation in Panem. 'If you wish to meet again, see me in the medical department, yet I hope that is not the case.'
As we reach the fence, unidentified soldiers covering the small patch of lime grass, the gates open as though on order. Assumably for the woman alone, yet she clutches my hand as to symbolise that I, too, could gain access, instead of sealing my fate as a Avox.
'Think you can make it past here?' She asked, a grin on her gentle face. Her face is sharpened by the glow, and I can truly see the pattern of scars on her arms. 'Commander Aande is coming, and he is not the best to cross. Good luck in the Reaping, okay?'
True to her word, a livid soldier is trudging across the dirt, grabbing the wrist embraced in blood. His voice is furious, barely crossing a syllable without shivering, as though he was ready to commit the worst crime in Panemese History.
'Leron,' The words cross his lips as though they were a curse, as though holding on to long resulted in death. 'Leron, I'd think I'd be surprised, y'know, if you weren't fired after this!'
He gestures to a watch, the glass glinting dangerously in the evening sunset, vibrating in a deadly rhythm. His fingers tap on the chain, impatient, yet I watch her face turn ashen in deadly recognition with no thoughts beyond it.
'Shit.' She whispers the words not in fear, but as though a magic word crossed her lips, a simple curse shifting to her salvation. The hope was small, yet it must have seemed as though it was an infinity. 'Shit. Wednesday. He said Wednesday.'
When Commander Aande shakes his head, all malice faded into a mist of pity, the woman turns to my shivering corpse.